Room 8 smelled like lavender and stress.Harper paced the carpet, the welcome folder still clutched in one hand. Dinner with Eli Rivers. Casual, he'd said. Just a hangout. No cameras. No poses. Just them.She groaned.
There were at least a hundred ways this could go wrong, and none of them involved her magically becoming someone who belonged in a room like that.
She opened the wardrobe, praying for a miracle. Inside were a few outfit options—clearly curated by the residency staff. On the left: high fashion, red carpet-ready. In the middle: smart casual. On the right: chill and cute.
Harper stared like she was deciphering a puzzle.
She ran her fingers across the fabrics. Silky. Structured. Nothing she would've worn back home. Her usual wardrobe consisted of hoodies, jeans, and oversized t-shirts with faded logos. Nothing here screamed Harper.
But maybe that was the point.
She finally settled on a soft lavender blouse with sheer sleeves and a pair of fitted black trousers. Not too flashy. Not too plain. She changed slowly, carefully—half-expecting someone to knock and tell her it was a mistake, that she wasn't supposed to be here.
Her curls were another battle. She stood in front of the mirror, dragging her fingers through them, reshaping the frizz with water and borrowed curl cream from the bathroom amenities. Her face looked pale under the soft yellow lights. She added a little tinted balm and mascara—nothing more. The girl staring back looked unfamiliar.
Not better. Just... different.
Like someone in the process of becoming.
By the time she slipped on the ankle boots—actual leather, real zippers—her heart was in her throat.
She grabbed her phone and stared at it for a second before stuffing it into her pocket. No way was she texting anyone now. This was real life, and she had to walk straight into it.
Downstairs, the others were already gathered in the glass foyer. Blonde girl had gone full glam—tight black dress, heels that could break ankles. The other finalist wore sleek trousers and a bold red blazer. Both looked like they belonged at a magazine launch.
Eli stood by the double doors, talking to one of the staff. He was in a leather jacket over a grey tee, sleeves pushed up, sunglasses perched on his head like he hadn't even tried. Of course he hadn't.
His eyes flicked to Harper as she joined the group. Just a glance—but it landed like a firework.
He gave a tiny nod. Approval? Recognition? She didn't know.
"Everyone ready?" he asked, voice casual.
The blonde girl batted her lashes. "Always."
Harper swallowed her nerves.
"Let's go," Eli said, and just like that, the doors opened and the night began.